


Fireworks

by Vizkopa



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Showoffs, the both of them...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

There’s nothing that could wipe the smile from your face tonight. Perched on the sturdy wooden railing of the Moby Dick, a half empty bottle of ale in your hand and fresh tattoo prickling on your shoulder, you honestly could not be happier. You hum along to the music and look up at the sky, silently thanking whatever gods there are for today – the day you became a Whitebeard Pirate.

Though you had insisted firmly against it, the crew had thrown you a welcoming party. Pirates, it seems, will exploit any and every opportunity they can to drink and eat until they pass out. “Keeps the morale up,” the captain had said with a wink and a hearty laugh. You finish off your drink and look down at the empty bottle and smile. Well, you couldn’t exactly argue with him there.

You set the bottle down and before you can even leave your seat, there is already a fresh one in your hand and a pair of black eyes peering at you from beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

“Hey, welcome to the crew,” says Ace, holding up his own drink in an informal toast.

You clink your bottle against his and grin. “Thanks.” You both take a long drink.

He swallows hard and sighs in satisfaction before turning back to you. He gestures to your arm with his bottle. “How’s the shoulder?”

You shrug and instantly regret it as your freshly tattooed skin stretches painfully. “Stings,” you replied truthfully. “But seems to be healing up alright.”

“Good thing, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you cried the loudest out of anyone I’ve ever seen,” he laughs and you hit him. “Ow.”

“Serves you right.”

“Maybe so,” he says, amused. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you… How would you like to join my division? We could use you.”

“Oh, I-”

“She can’t, because she’s already agreed to join _my_ division, haven’t you, [Name]?” says a voice from behind you.

You turn to find the First Division Commander himself with a cocky grin on his face. You stutter. “W-well, I haven’t agreed to anything yet. But I guess you did ask me first.”

“Right,” Marco says, taking a place on your other side, ignoring the angry glare Ace shoots in his direction. “Take your time. Tonight should be for drinking and dancing, not tough decision-making.”

You giggle. “I’ll drink to that,” you say taking a long swig, and Marco follows suit. “Although I’m not really one for dancing.”

“Neither am I,” he replies with a wink. You can almost feel Ace seething from beside you. 

“Say…” Marco continues. “Do you like fireworks?”

You nod, unsure of what he is getting at.

“I think it’s about time I liven up this party then. Watch this,” he says with a grin.

Suddenly his arms extend into great fiery wings and in a rush of hot air he takes to the sky. He dives and twirls through the night air in a brilliant display of blue and orange flame. Sparks fly and scatter like falling stars that flicker out of existence quicker than they appear. You crane your neck to see, mouth open wide in awe, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crew. You are completely mesmerized until you feel an arm snake its way around your waist.

“A bit flashy, isn’t he?” Ace whispers in your ear and you shudder from the feeling of his hot breath against your skin. “Let me give you a real show.”

Your attention is drawn away from Marco’s extravagant air somersaults as Ace slowly extends a hand to the sky, and from his fingertips fly dozens of tiny green lights, stopping to hover in the air above your heads like fireflies. You reach out to touch one, but he pulls your hand back. His touch is warm and sends tingles up your arm.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A moment later, you understand why. You watch, transfixed, a grin spreading across your face as the green lights burst into sparks one by one. They pop and crackle loudly, before fizzling into nothingness like fireworks and leaving the scent of burnt matches to be swept away by the sea breeze.

“Amazing!” you cry, applauding him.

Marco alights beside you to a round of applause from the Whitebeard Pirates, his flames extinguishing with a huff. “Steal my show, why don’t ya?” he says to Ace.

Ace just shrugs, a smug grin on his face. His arm is still around you and you blush under Marco’s scrutinising gaze. The redness in your cheeks only deepens as Marco takes his place on your other side and grasps your hand in his, casually entwining his fingers with yours. He’s just as warm as Ace.

The air grows silent between the three of you and you sit and watch the merriment. You can feel Ace’s fingers tapping away at the skin of your waist in time to the music, and the tickle of Marco’s thumb as it traces over the back of your hand, leaving your skin humming with warmth in its wake.

“[Name]…” they both say, and pause as they eye each other off. You hum a signal to continue but neither of them seems to want to speak first, instead muttering intelligible excuses and turning away once more.

Another few minutes of awkward silence pass before they try again, each of them leaning in until you can feel the warmth of their breaths against the exposed skin of your neck. Your heart is beating a hundred miles a minute as they each whisper your name, low enough so that only you can hear. They lean in closer. You panic and do the only thing you can think of.

You duck.

Time seems to stop for a few seconds. Then Ace and Marco open their eyes, confused at first, then horrified.

“EW GROSS, MAN, WHAT THE HELL?!”

“YAH! YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

The two men throw themselves away from each other, gagging and spitting. They each reach for their drinks and down almost the entire bottle, grimacing and wiping feverishly at their lips, muttering curses at each other under their breaths. You giggle and they turn to you, incredulous.

“Now _that_ sure livened up the party,” you say, grinning cheekily. “Hey, my drink is empty. Who wants to get me a new one?”

There is a mad scramble as the two fight their way to the drinks table, still bickering like a married couple. You follow after, hoping you would be sober enough in the morning to remember this.


End file.
